


Never Enough

by paladin_piper



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Alcohol, Bar Room Brawl, Blue Hawke, Dragon Age II - Act 1, F/M, Flashbacks, Found Family, Hawke Backstory, Last Part of Fic: Act 3, Mentions of Carver and Malcolm Hawke, Singing, Sister-Sister Friendship, Warrior Hawke (Dragon Age), anders gets a cat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-08
Updated: 2019-01-08
Packaged: 2019-10-06 13:09:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17345807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paladin_piper/pseuds/paladin_piper
Summary: Leandra was the one who pushed Hawke into singing, and that little push was all Hawke needed to fall headfirst in love with music.A oneshot about Hawke and her life, and how music has influenced it.





	Never Enough

**Author's Note:**

> Very, very loosely inspired by [this post by andrewllyodwebber on tumblr.](https://andrewlloydwebber.net/post/150429789504/some-woman-on-the-street-below-just-hit-an) Enjoy!  
> [What My Hawke Looks Like in Act 1](https://66.media.tumblr.com/b45b03d96158abe6d164a378cd0bd2f9/tumblr_pkzwf5Ufbh1r1pf25o1_1280.png) vs. [What She Looks Like in Act 3.](https://66.media.tumblr.com/4bc586a3e5736f92ceab2ca11b28bfc5/tumblr_pkzwf5Ufbh1r1pf25o2_1280.png)

Leandra was the one who pushed Hawke into singing, and that little push was all Hawke needed to fall headfirst in love with music. As Marian learned her first words, she learned her first notes as well. Her voice was sopranic and light, but had a beautiful timbre to it that didn’t make it exhausting to listen to. Malcolm loved her singing more than anything, and whenever Hawke wasn’t training with her sword or stuck with her nose in a book, she could be found performing the newest song she learned, for her father’s enjoyment.

 

Once the twins were born, Leandra had them go into music as well. After all, if one does it, why not have all of them do it? Carver had a natural talent for the harpsichord, and could play almost anything after hearing it once. Bethany was more timid and not as musically inclined as her siblings; but she picked up pieces of the harpsichord, along with the flute.

 

No matter where they were or what conditions they were facing, music was a constant source of light for the Hawke family. Marian’s singing kept the family together through the good times and bad: it comforted the twins during harsh and sudden moves, and brought a smile to her father’s face whenever he looked weary.

 

When Hawke was older, there was a day where Malcolm’s health took a turn for the worst. It came out of nowhere, and hit the family hard. As Malcolm grew weaker and weaker, music began to fade from the Hawke family. Hawke lost her passion for singing as Malcolm lost his life. When he passed, Hawke’s singing did as well. She devoted herself to her warrior training, becoming skilled in the art of two-handed weaponry. The Battle of Ostagar came and went, and then the world went to shit when the Darkspawn invaded during the Blight.

 

When Carver died, music was finally dead for Hawke. 

 

—

 

A year passed, and Hawke and Bethany made it to Kirkwall, where life was a daily struggle. Gamlen was a bastard who had squandered away their mother’s rightful fortune and home, forcing them to live in the most dangerous part of Lowtown. They took jobs with a group of smugglers to pay their debts, along with a Fereldan fighter named Aveline who quickly became a second sister to Hawke. It seemed everywhere Hawke went, she met someone new and exciting who never left her side. Soon, she had a cast of characters who followed her around Kirkwall, a new group of friends who made Hawke’s empty life feel a little more full.

 

Slowly, the music returned.

 

It started out small, and Hawke barely even noticed it. Drumming a simple rhythm on the hilt of her sword as she stared down an enemy, humming under her breath as she browsed around the shops in Hightown. Little acts that were seemingly inconsequential at first, but built into bigger and bigger things as time went on. Music was coming back to Hawke, but she still could not bring herself to sing again.

 

Hawke was hired by a distraught (but untrustworthy) widow to go into the Blooming Rose and find out information about his wife from her lover who worked there. As her, Fenris, Isabela, and Anders stood and waited for the madam to check through her books, a familiar song played in the brothel: one that her and her siblings had played before, years and years ago. A song about how living a restrictive life with wealth is akin to living trapped in a bird cage; it seemed too innocent for this establishment, yet at the same time fit far too well. Hawke’s mind drifted off as she took in the song, remembering the lyrics as it went on.

 

_Outside the sky waits, beckoning, beckoning, just beyond the bars._  
_How can you remain, staring at the rain, maddened by the stars?_  


“Hawke, darling,” a familiar voice piped up behind her, and Hawke looked over her shoulder at Isabela. The beautiful pirate had an equally-beautiful elven woman sitting on her lap, and her dark fingers twisted through golden locks as Isabela smirked at Hawke, her secret discovered. “Are you singing?”

 

Hawke felt a blush rush to her cheeks, and she was sure her freckles were standing out against her golden skin (they always did when she blushed, which just made her redder). She hasn’t even noticed the quiet words leaving her lips; her senses be damned. “You must have been dreaming, Isabela. Maybe your elven friend in your lap has you more distracted than you realize.” She tried to bluff by waving her hand dramatically, but she knew Isabela had caught her.

 

“I have good ears, Hawke, I know what singing is.” Isabela retorted, rolling her eyes dramatically. “Ask anyone else here.”

 

Hawke then turned to her right and looked at Anders. The mage looked comically uncomfortable as one of the bartenders — the same one who he said tried to hire him a few weeks back — stared at him from across the room. “Was I singing, Anders?”

 

Anders shook his head no, and it was obvious all he wanted to do was book it. Hawke held in a chuckle at his comedic misfortune, then turned to Fenris on her left. He was half-leaning on the table they were by, his arms crossed over his chest with an impatient, yet distant, look on his face. 

 

“Fenris?”

 

Her calling his name seemed to raise him from his daydreaming, and he looked at Hawke with wide green eyes. “Yes?”

 

Hawke had always felt a twinge of… something in her chest every time Fenris looked at her. What Isabela said was true; he did have ‘pretty eyes’. Calling how she felt a ‘crush’ seemed childish, but there was no other name she could give those feelings. They had flirted in the past, yes, but nothing more than hidden compliments and lingering gazes. Hawke focused for a moment on his eyes, then her eyes trickled down to his lips (soft and dark), then back up to those green eyes that were still focused on her, but now there was a smile buried in them.

 

Before she could say anything, the madam of the brothel was back with her findings. She pointed the group towards an elf who might have information about the missing wife. Hawke broke herself away from Fenris’ eyes and the party moved on. The singing was forgotten, and life went on as normal.

 

—

 

Weeks passed, and eventually Hawke and her companions found themselves at the Hanged Man one evening. Even Aveline had managed to sneak away from her city guard role to drink brews, play cards, and socialize with the rest of her friends.

 

Hawke had a buzz in her stomach from the West Hill Brandy her and Aveline had been drinking all night (Aveline could drink anyone under the table without breaking a sweat), and she could feel waves of sensations rushing over her. Hawke leaned her head on the closest shoulder she could find — which happened to be Bethany’s — and closed her eyes with a boozy smile. Everyone, even Merrill and Bethany, had drinks in their hands and smiles on their faces as they sat in the musty tavern. 

 

Varric and Fenris sat at a round table and were in the midst of what seemed like the longest game of Wicked Grace ever, while Isabela dramatically narrated every move. Anders, who was sitting with Hawke at a separate table, had somehow found a cat before he walked in. The orange tabby slept around his neck for the night while he drank himself silly, and Hawke wondered if he had to drink twice or half as much to get drunk because of Justice. He was chatting with Bethany about anything that came to their minds, and it warmed Hawke to know that Bethany was making friends, since she always had trouble doing so due to her being a Mage. Behind Hawke sat Merrill and Aveline, who were comparing Dalish life to the life of a Guardsman and taking shots for every similarity. They were nearly shouting over the loud music playing through the bar, emulating from a harpsichord that was being played by a patron.

 

 _The music,_ Hawke thought to herself, _Carver used to play this song all the time…_

 

Hawke’s thoughts slipped back to her old life: a life before Kirkwall, before the Blight and when everything went sideways. Back to when Carver and Father were still alive, when her and her siblings were younger and more naive about the dangers of the world. She could still picture how Carver would try to hide the smile pulling at the corners of his lips while he and Hawke bickered over everything. He would deny his feelings, claiming he couldn’t stand his older sister, but deep down Hawke knew he liked her, because she loved her baby brother.

 

The song being played was one of Carver’s favorites, and Hawke loved the lyrics that accompanied it — the singer was asking someone to think of them, even when they are _“far away and free”_. This version had no lyricist, but Hawke felt like she could hear a voice singing the lyrics within the music.

 

“Singing again?”

 

Bethany’s voice made Hawke open her eyes, and she looked up to see the smirking face of her little sister. Her eyes were bloodshot from drinking, and she giggled before speaking.

 

“Isabela told me about what happened at the Blooming Rose. You were singing!”

 

Groaning as she sat up, Hawke ran her hand over her hair — black and pulled back into a tight, neat bun at the nape of her neck — then sighed. “You must be hearing things Bethany. How much have you drank?” She teased, tapping her fingers against the glass of liquor in Bethany’s hand. “Besides, believing Isabela? That’s almost as bad as believing Varric.”

 

“It’s… it’s just nice to hear again. If you were singing, I mean.” Bethany’s smirk was gone, replaced by a longing smile; then, she sighed. “It reminds me of when Father was still alive is all.” 

 

“And Carver.” Hawke added, patting her sister’s free hand. “It’s been so long, I honestly thought I had forgotten music entirel—“

 

“—Curse you, elf. Bastard.” Varric’s loud, roguish voice broke through Bethany and Hawke’s conversation, causing the sisters to look at the dwarf. 

 

“Better luck next time, Varric? Unless you wish to test your luck and go double or nothing… again.” Fenris said triumphantly, basking in his win. He slumped in his seat then pressed a bottle of wine to his mouth, and as he took a long sip, Hawke could see a teasing smile pulling at the corners of his lips. Hawke could feel that twinge in her chest again as she watched Fenris slam the bottle down and wipe his mouth on the back of his palm.

 

“Bah.

 

“This elf is cleaning me dry.” Varric said as he turned and looked at Hawke and Bethany. The sisters must have looked a bit downtrodden due to the serious conversation they were having, and Varric walked over to them with his arms outstretched. “Why the long faces, ladies? Tonight is supposed to be a night of merriment and general debauchery. You two look like you just saw a malabri puppy get kicked!”

 

“Oh, that’s awful!” Merrill chimed in, pressing a hand to the side of her face. Aveline nodded in agreement after taking a shot. “Disgusting, Varric. No one wants to think about that.”

 

“You look like Varric when he realized I had a full set of four and he was out about thirty sovereigns, give or take.” Fenris said. Isabela chuckled in agreement, especially since she had about ten of those sovereigns from Fenris’ winnings hidden all over her body.

 

“What’s on your mind, Hawke?” Varric’s hands were on her knees, and he looked up at Hawke with concern written on his face. She shook her head then let out a quiet sigh, not ready to give everything up just yet.

 

“Just... thinking about the past is all.”

 

Varric was about to accept that answer and walk away, until Bethany — who looked like she was about to explore, blurted out:

 

“Marian and Carver, our brother, and I used to perform this song. He’d play the harpsichord, I would play the flute, and Hawke sang.” 

 

Bethany was loud enough for everyone in Hawke’s group to hear. As all eyes turned to her, she tried to spit out something to save her and Hawke’s hides — a witty one liner, anything at all — but a long and awkward stutter came out instead. She sighed, shook her head in defeat, then downed the rest of her drink. “Maker’s breath… sorry Hawke.”

 

Varric’s eyes flew open at this revelation, and before Hawke could react or defend herself, Varric was pulling her and Bethany out of their seats.

 

“No, no Varric!” Hawke said with a nervous laugh, trying to pull her wrist out of his vice grip. “Whatever crazy idea you have, no!”

 

“Come on, Hawke, you never told us you sing! That’s crucial, no, vital information! How could you hide that talent from us?” Varric continued, dragging her and Bethany over to the now-unoccupied harpsichord. “You must show us, Hawke. It’s basically a requirement at this point.”

 

All of Hawke’s friends were watching with eagerness; it even felt like the cat wrapped around Anders’ neck was staring at her and Bethany. Looking around the room, Hawke light brown eyes met Fenris’ green eyes, and she took a deep breath to regain her confidence.

 

“Well, I didn’t want to be known as some sort of ‘singing warrior gag’.” Hawke replied, leaning her elbow on the top of the small harpsichord. “Besides, I don’t think anyone here wants to hear me sing, Varric. I think they just want to see you embarrass me.”

 

“C’mon, Marian. It’ll be like old times sake.” Bethany playfully elbowed her sister in the side, causing Hawke to jump up in surprise. Before Hawke could retaliate, Bethany took a seat behind the harpsichord, looking up at her sister with puppy eyes. “Please?”

 

“I don’t—“

 

“I’d like to hear you sing, Hawke!” Merrill chimed in with a warm smile on her face. “Rarely anyone sang amongst the Dalish. It’d be nice to hear something pretty!”

 

“And if it’s terrible, we’ll only tease you for what? Ten, twelve weeks about it?” Anders said, his words slurring as he spoke. Aveline whacked Anders on the back of his head in response. “Ow!”

 

“If what I heard at the Blooming Rose is accurate, then I’m sure she’ll be fine… Maybe you could join my crew one day and teach them how to sing a proper sea shanty.” Isabela said with a wink.

 

Hawke felt a blush creep up her cheeks, and she turned to look at Bethany. “If you don’t want to—“

 

“Nonsense,” She retorted. “Once more, for old times’ sake. Let’s do it for Carver, Hawke. For Father.”

 

“Oh… alright.”

 

Bethany began to play, and Hawke closed her eyes and readied herself. The nervous pit in her stomach gave her a buzz of confidence and Hawke took a deep breath, then began to sing a song about never having enough no matter the circumstances. As she sang, her mind fell back into old memories: memories of her family, whole and together once more.

 

… 

_“Carver, Carver!” Hawke called out, running across a blooming field with her training sword in hand and a smile on her face. “Parry!”_

 

_The would-be-warrior siblings ran at each other, wildly swinging their swords in a playful manner. Hawke was 11, with gangly limbs galore and black hair tied up in a messy braid. Carver was 8, pale and lithe and still a boy at heart, and missing his two front teeth to boot. Bethany was sitting in the field, watching her sibling fight as she wove crowns from the wildflowers surrounding her. Her magic had begun to truly show itself, and she was too afraid to fight in case she unintentionally hurt one of her siblings._

 

_Their wooden swords smacked against each other, and as they pretended to be fierce warriors battling to the death, Hawke began to sing. Just random ornamentations of notes, jumping from one pitch to another as their swords clacked together. Carver began to laugh at her, which Hawke took as a challenge. Her singing grew louder and more abrasive, echoing across the field behind their home. Carver was laughing even harder now, and since he was not paying as much attention as he should have been, he lost his footing. This mistake gave Hawke the opportunity to attack._

 

_One sweep from her sword and Carver was on his back, dazed and confused at what just happened. Hawke laughed and she triumphantly stood over her brother, her foot resting on his chest as she struck a pose. “I’ve defeated you, foul creature! Now I am the King! Long live the King!” Carver was giggling underneath Hawke as she monologued, and Bethany’s cheers of “long live the King!” rang across the field. The siblings were so enthralled in their fantasy world that they did not even notice the back door to their house open up, or their father’s footsteps as he walked out to them._

 

_“Look at my little warriors!” Their father said with a smile, squatting down to properly greet his children._

 

_“Father!” They cried with glee, racing across the field to hug him. Malcolm had been gone for days, and the siblings didn’t understand the circumstances surrounding his random disappearances until years later. For now, it was a childish naivety that swirled around them and protected them from the dangers of the outside world._

 

_Malcolm stepped back, a flower crown from Bethany perched on his head. “My three lovely children. You all are truly the lights of my life.”_

 

_Leandra had stepped outside by this point, leaning halfway in the doorframe of their house. “Come now, children, it’s getting dark out. Why don’t you play your father that new song you learned while he was gone?”_

…

 

The song the sibling performed all those years ago was the same song Hawke was singing tonight, but the company had changed. Bethany was still there, yes, but if Hawke had been told a decade ago that she would be performing this beautiful ballad in a run-down dive bar surrounded by some of the closest friends she ever had, she would not have believed it.

 

As she ended on the final line of the song, a quiet muttering of _“... For me”_ , Hawke’s eyes refocused and she glanced around the bar. For a moment, it was deathly silent. Hawke wondered if she had done a bad job — she wouldn’t be surprised, it had been years since she properly sang. No warming up, no time to prepare; it was probably a mess.

 

But then, there was applause.

 

Hawke flushed with embarrassment and hid her face behind her hands as her friends and the patrons of the bar alike erupted in a cacophonous applause. “Oh my god,” she mumbled, trying to turn away from the attention.

 

She felt Bethany’s hands on hers, prying her fingers from her face. There were tears in Bethany’s light brown eyes, and she hugged her sister tight. “Father and Carver would have loved that. You were amazing.” She whispered.

 

“You were even more amazing.” Hawke whispered back as she hugged her sister, giving her a tight squeeze before pulling away. The pair turned towards the audience, giving them a quick curtsy to thank them for their applause. Isabela yelled “encore!”, and their friends laughed and clapped in agreement.

 

Hawke was so focused on his singing that she had not even noticed that Aveline and Merrill had begun to dance and drunkenly sway together to the music, or that Anders had done the same with his cat. She was so lost in her mind that Hawke did not realize that Varric had stood almost directly in front of her for her whole performance. As she looked down, she swore she saw dried tears on his cheeks, but Varric swore that he had never cried because of Hawke’s singing (but he had, and that was only the first time he did it. He always cried when Hawke sang.).

 

“Hawke, I swear! I’m going to write a book about you one day, and this’ll be in it!” He said with a slurred laugh, leading the siblings to the table where he and Fenris had been playing Wicked Grace earlier. “But maybe I’ll add a stage… or, ooh, what if you were fighting a griffon while you serenaded all of us? Or maybe a dragon, with your bare hands?”

 

“Don’t make my life into one tall tale. At least leave in the fact that I was so nervous that I was shaking,” She retorted, settling into a seat and taking the glass of ale that was offered to her by Fenris. Their shoulders brushed as she sat, and Varric quickly took the seat on the opposite side of Hawke, chatting with Bethany about the Hawke family’s musical past.

 

“I must say Hawke, you are certainly a woman of many talents.” Fenris commented, and Hawke took a long sip of her ale before responding. She had forgotten how dry singing made her throat.

 

“Thank you, Fenris. It’s been a while since I’ve done that.”

 

“Musical, powerful, smart, and beautiful. You’re multifaceted to say the least.”

 

The beautiful in his comment caught Hawke completely off guard, and she choked on her ale. She swore she saw a glimmer of a smirk on Fenris’ lips as her face burned, and she put down her glass, embarrassed and enkindled all at once.

 

“Are you alright, Hawke?” Anders asked as he took a seat on the other side of Fenris. The tabby cat was wrapped around his neck again, and Anders’ eyes had a drunken glaze over them. “What’d he do to you?” He narrowed his gaze at Fenris, who glared back at him. “Wha’d he do to you?” He repeated his question, more slurred than the first time he said it.

 

Hawke chuckled, waving her hand to relax him. “Nothing, Anders. Don’t worry about me; have another drink.” She poured Anders a glass of ale, then topped off hers and Fenris’s glasses. By now, Hawke’s crew has migrated to sitting around the round table, squeezed together like Fereldan sardines. They stayed there for hours; laughing, talking, sharing and making new memories, while drinking heavily into the wee hours of the morning. Most of the bar patrons had stumbled home after the show, leaving a mostly empty bar for the crew to enjoy.

 

At one point, Hawke met Fenris’ gaze and the pair smiled at one another. “You think I’m beautiful?” She asked, referencing what Fenris had commented earlier. A sober Hawke would never ask that, but the booze in her body was overtaking her brain. Fenris seemed to be at the same level of inebriation, and he laughed. “I think you’re a lot of others things as well.”

 

The pair began to lean into one another, one part booze and one part attraction. Hawke was not sure what was about to happen, but whatever it was, she wanted it. Before they could do anything, however. Varric cleared his throat and stood up on his wooden seat, raising his pint of cider high into the air. This action interrupted the two, and along with the rest of the companions, they raised their drinks in the air, waiting for a toast from Varric.

 

“I declare tonight as being one of the greatest nights in Kirkwall’s otherwise lousy history. Better than night we got Merrill drunk for the first time and she danced on a table, better than the night Isabela exposed herself after I sunk a sovereign into her cleavage from across the bar, and better than the First Annual Kirkwall Arm Wrestling Championship Competition, which Aveline won by a landslide.” Varric swayed for a moment, then steadied himself on the squeaky chair. He turned to Hawke, a grin plastered on his face. “Anything to add, my friend?”

 

Hawke looked around the table with a smile. This was her new family, for better or for worse. And it was definitely for the better. She couldn’t imagine herself anywhere else, doing anything else, with anyone else. Taking a deep breath, Hawke paused then belted out an operatic High C, which was met with applause from the table. 

 

However, not everyone was pleased with her performance.

 

A rousing of “boos” and vulgar requests to be quiet were made by a shady group of men clustered by the end of the bar. Hawke’s group leered at them, and she quickly cut off her note and turned to the group of hecklers. “I’ll fucking kick your ass!” She yelled, which was a stark contrast to her usual diplomatic personality. The ale and brandy were muddling her mind, making her more aggressive than normal.

 

The group, which had the obvious markings and stance of a mercenary team, swaggered over to their table. Hawke and her companions rose from their seats, presenting a dangerous front in an attempt to intimidate the mercenaries. Hawke was comforted by the fact that her friends had her back, even when they were drunk out of their minds. 

 

“This is our turf. Take your frufru singing and get out of here, Fereldan dog.” The leader of the mercenaries spit, almost chest to chest with Hawke as he spoke.

 

“How can this be your ‘turf’ when I’ve never even heard of you?” Hawke retorted. 

 

“You bitch.” The leader barked. “No one insults us and lives.” The leader stepped back and raised his fists, and Hawke did as well.

 

“Please don’t kill him Hawke. That’s too much paperwork for a hungover me to deal with tomorrow,” Aveline interjected with a sigh, rubbing her temples. 

 

“I won’t kill him, I’ll just make sure that he remembers this beating.”

 

Fenris, Varric, and Isabela joined Hawke’s side as the brawl exploded. Hawke exchanged hard blows with the mercenary leader, and she took a solid punch to the jaw that left her dazed. She was drunker than she thought, and completely unprepared and off-step. Out of nowhere came a punch, and then the leader was stumbling backwards. Varric sped by with a grin, yelling “try to keep up, Hawke!” as he passed her to go attack one of the goons on Isabela.

 

“Keep up, huh?” She said out loud, stretching her arms as the leader found his bearings. “Well, we’ll just see about that.”

 

While Hawke was dealing with the leader of the mercenaries, Fenris quickly took down the second-in-command, kicking his beaten body to the side. “Pathetic. If you were the second in command, I take pity on all of those underneath you.” 

 

Varric had joined Isabela, and the rogues traded multiple targets as they darted through the shadows; even though they were both drunk, they were stealthy and easily confused the mercenaries.

 

Eventually, everyone in the bar was throwing punches, even though who opted to stay out of the fight in the first place. Anders threw a table into a cluster of charging men with a mind blast; Merrill and Bethany were tag teaming a rogue who kept trying to disappear on them; and Aveline clotheslined a group of men who charged her, thinking she would be an easy target.

 

At one point during the brawl, Anders was backed into a corner by three men who were almost twice his height and his width. One of them pulled out a dagger, and Anders swallowed roughly as he tried to think of something to do to get himself out of this mess without summoning Justice. But then an arm shot through the middle mercenaries chest, his still-beating heart grasped firmly in a glowing hand. The other two mercenaries screamed at the sight and ran out of the bar. When the middle man slumped to the floor, Fenris was standing behind him.

 

“Fenris?” Anders said, confused at why the resident broody mage-hater would be helping him.

 

“Don’t sound too surprised, Mage.” Fenris pulled Anders out of the corner, and the two of them were back to back as another wave of men surrounded them. “I won’t hear the end of it from Hawke if you die. Also, I’m a little drunk.”

 

“Well, I appreciate the help, drunk or not.”

 

The fighting continued, but the mercenaries were starting to dwindle in number, either defeated or run off. The companions circled around Hawke, cheering her on as she and the leader continued to trade blows. When the leader began to falter and looked to be on his last leg, Hawke called out “help?”, and Aveline and Fenris stepped in. Hawke was weary, and knew should could not finish this fight on her own. 

 

Together, the three warriors lifted the mercenary captain up by his neck then slammed him through a nearby table, effectively ending the battle with a bang.

 

As the dust settled, the warriors dropped their hands. Aveline pulled away, but Hawke kept her hand in Fenris’. Hawke didn’t even realize she was doing it at first; she was more distracted by the heavy panting coming from her worn-out companions, and the groans of the fallen mercenaries surrounding them.

 

“Singing and a bar fight? _Definitely_ the best night in Kirkwall history.”

 

The silence of the room broke at Varric’s comment, and Hawke and her companions laughed. Fenris’ hand slipped out of hers, but not before one small squeeze was given. Her eyes met his, and they shared a quick smile before the Corff the Bartender spoke behind them.

 

“Alright, alright, I think it’s time you folks leave…. After someone pays for the damages.”

 

“Just put it on my tab, Messere,” Varric responded, waving his hand with his usual self-assured smile. He gave Hawke a wink, then turned and went up to his chambers. Isabela followed suit, and soon everyone was filing out of the Hanged Man. They needed to go home and sleep in, then nurse away the inevitable hangovers they would all have tomorrow morning. As they left, Bethany stayed back the use the washroom, so it was just Fenris and Hawke standing outside, alone in a comfortable silence. Hawke couldn’t help but look upwards as she waited, studying the stars in the night sky.

 

“You do that a lot, you know?” Fenris chimed in, leaning against the wall behind her. “Look up at the stars. It’s like you can see something in them that we can’t.”

 

“My father, he tried to teach me the names of all of the constellations when I was younger. I can’t remember most of them, but some I can still find if I look long enough…

 

“… Look, right there. Tenebrium, also called Shadow. It’s associated with Lusacan, the Old God of Darkness and the Night, as well as Falon’Din. That’s why it’s represented as an owl, not as a dragon like Lusacan was.”

 

Fenris squinted, stepping behind Hawke to figure out what she was pointing at. “I just see a mess of stars.”

 

“Look lower, you’re too high up.”

 

“Is… that where it starts?” Fenris pointed at a star, but he was not even close to what Hawke was trying to point out. She sighed and covered his hand with hers, then moved it so it was pointing to the first star of the constellation.

 

Just touching Fenris made that fluttering in her chest start again, and Hawke swallowed roughly, hoping he couldn’t hear it now that they were so close and it was so quiet.

 

“It has eleven connections to form the constellation, so bear with me, okay? One…”

 

As Hawke counted through each connection, her and Fenris moved closer and closer. If it was unconsciously or consciously done, well, neither would ever own up to that.

 

After three, Fenris’ loose hand was resting on her waist. He was pressed against Hawke’s back, their heads next to each other.

 

By six, the fingers on their free hands slid together. Hawke could feel Fenris’s heartbeat against her, and his breath was cool and calming against her ear. 

 

At nine, Hawke turned her head and met Fenris’ gaze. His bright green eyes were heavy with lust, and his grip on her waist tightened. 

 

By ten, Hawke had forgotten what number she was on, and she and Fenris moved their faces closer together. Their lips brushed, and electricity sparked through her. She couldn’t believe this was happening, right here, right now. Her eyes slipped closed, as did Fenris’, and Hawke readied herself for the kiss she had wanted since the moment she met Fenris.

 

At eleven, Bethany burst out of the Hanged Man.

 

“Mariaaaaaan! Time to leeeeeeeeave!”

 

Hawke and Fenris almost tripped over themselves to pull away from each other, as neither dared to be caught in such a compromising position, especially by Bethany. Fenris mumbled “I should be going,” and scurried off in the direction of Hightown. Hawke stood there for a moment, still a little dumbfounded at what just happened and if it had happened. Maybe her drunken brain had just made it up, a side effect of all of the alcohol in her body. But her cheeks were burning, and she could still feel Fenris’ lips brushing against hers, so it must have happened.

 

“Why're you so red? Did you drink too much?” Bethany teased, slurring and stumbling over her feet as she approached her sister. Hawke made a motion and Bethany jumped on her back, wrapping her arms around Hawke’s neck.

 

“Maker, _you_ drank too much tonight, Bethany. Please try not to wake Mother when we get home. I can’t stand another lecture of hers for being ‘irresponsible’ with you and letting you drink.”

 

“Maybe if you hadn’t been ogling F _eeeeee_ nri _iiiiiiiii_ s all night I wouldn’t have drank so much!” 

 

As revenge for that comment, Hawke unceremoniously dumped her sister off of her back, and Bethany fell to the ground with a hard thud. “That hurt!” She said with a pout, crossing her arms over her chest and looking up at Hawke. For a moment, all Hawke could see was Bethany as a child again, pouting and throwing a fit because she didn’t get something that she wanted. A small chuckle escaped her lips, and Hawke held out her hand.

 

“ _You deseeeeeeeerved it!_ ” Hawke replied in a sing-song, vibrato voice.

 

“Ass.” Bethany said with a smile. She stood with the help of Hawke’s hand, then jumped on her back again.

 

“I love you too, Bethany. Now, let’s get you home.”

 

—

 

“Hawke, wake up.”

 

Hawke barely stirred in her sleep, mumbling something incomprehensible before turning back over.

 

“ _Marian._ Wake up.”

 

Fenris’ use of her first name brought her out of her slumbers, and Hawke looked up at him with sleep in her amber eyes. He was leaning over her, a sweet smile pulling at his lips. “You were singing in your sleep again.”

 

“Oh…” Hawke’s voice was heavy and raspy, and she rolled onto her back to look up at Fenris. “Did I wake you? I’m sorry.”

 

“You were singing loud enough to wake the blighted Darkspawn in the Deep Roads.” The two of them chuckled, and then Hawke settled into Fenris’ arms. Her thumb dragged over his knuckles, and she turned her head to press a kiss to his bare chest. 

 

“I was dreaming about that night at the Hanged Man. The night I sang for the first time.”

 

“That was almost six years ago, wasn’t it?” Fenris asked, and Hawke nodded in response.

 

“But it was… different. Mother was there, and so was Carver, and Father. Everyone was so happy, and everything felt so natural. It was… comforting.”

 

“Hm.” Was all Fenris replied, and then he kissed the top of Hawke’s head. She shifted in his arms then rested her forehead against his.

 

“... Remember when I tried to teach you that constellation that night?”

 

“Tenebrium?”

 

“Yes, that one… I don’t think we got through all eleven connections.” Hawke teased, remembering that moment fondly. 

 

Fenris chuckled at that, weaving his fingers through Hawke’s and raising them to his lips to press a kiss to them. “I think we were both a bit more interested in something else.”

 

“You were the one who touched my waist.”

 

“And you were the one who grabbed my hand and tried to kiss me.”

 

Hawke clicked her tongue. “If I remember correctly, we both leane—“

 

Hawke was cut off by Fenris’ lips pressed against hers, and she sighed into the kiss. She loved kissing Fenris, and she did whenever she could. Her arms slid around his neck, and she shivered as his free hand pressed against the small of her back.

 

“There. To make up for that night.” Fenris whispered once the kiss broke. 

 

“That’s it?” She replied, a teasing smile on her lips.

 

“I need to sleep, my love.” He shook his head with a smile. “As do you.”

 

Hawke nodded with a dramatic sigh. “If I must.” Once settled under the sheets, Hawke pressed her face into Fenris’ chest, and he wrapped his arms around her. Her leg snaked around his waist, and he kissed her forehead. “Goodnight, my love.”

**Author's Note:**

> Songs referenced:  
> 1\. Green Finch and Linnet Bird — Sweeney Todd  
> 2\. Think of Me — Phantom of the Opera  
> 3\. Never Be Enough — The Greatest Showman  
> I hope you enjoyed my fic! This is my first time writing for the Dragon Age fandom. If you liked it, please leave a kudos and a comment! Extra love to lykaonimagines on tumblr for proofreading this fic for me! Go check out her work! Thanks again!! :)


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